


Wayward Temptations

by Oopsynini



Series: The Temptations of Crowley [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Food Sex, Hell Trauma, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Jealous Aziraphale (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Smut, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26131405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oopsynini/pseuds/Oopsynini
Summary: Hell, for all it's filthy tar, and greasy underlayer of fire and brimstone was primarily a business. As far as the unholy hordes were concerned, every demon had a job, and as long as receipts were turned in by end of month, your job was well done. However, come up short and...well, there'd be hell to pay. Literally.Crowley hasn't filled his quota, so he's to pay his way by other means. When Hell turns him into a sex-starved Incubus there's only one man he wants. To bad he also happens to be a completely untouchable angel.Only no one told Aziraphale that, and he's more than happy to fill the position.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Temptations of Crowley [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909054
Comments: 60
Kudos: 306
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	Wayward Temptations

**Author's Note:**

> Just an angsty, yummy, smutty short.

Hell, for all its filthy tar, and greasy underlayer of fire and brimstone was primarily a business. As far as the unholy hordes were concerned, every demon had a job, and as long as receipts were turned in by end of month, your job was well done. However, come up short and...well, there'd be hell to pay. Literally.

The Demon Crowley had been in good standing for going on centuries. Centuries of paying his dues on time, and sometimes even coming out ahead. Sure, he made half the stuff up, but the point was, he'd never once come up short. 

Until the pact. 'We're on our own side.' All the romantic, belly-warming syrup that felt so good to say at the time, until there were consequences. That'd been six months ago. Six months of coming up short. Six months of torment, because no matter how much he said it, he would never be able to get free of the chains that bound him to the eternal pit.

Which brought him to this moment. Sprawled in his bed. His belly aflame with hellfire. Horny. So damn horny. Crowley moaned, whining into his pillow as Aziraphale breached him with a slow, eager thrust of his hips. 

"Satan, yes, Angel." He shouted, arching his hips and tilting them to eagerly take that hard, throbbing shaft. Calloused hands wrapped around his hips, gripping tight to yank his hips back. Crowley keened, wanting to get lost in the moment. To forget precisely why he was laying on that bed, and with who.

Calloused hands.

His Angel didn't have calloused hands.

"Fuck, no, no, no!" He groaned into the silk threads of his expensive sheets. He was losing it, the achingly beautiful fantasy shredding away thanks to the little details. Turning to look over his shoulder, he caught sight of blond hair- too blond where it framed a handsome, pleasure taut face. Wrong chin, wrong lips. The heavenly glow that always followed his Angel missing. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

"Wait! Stop!" Crowley twisted out from beneath the stranger, gasping as his insides were suddenly, achingly hallow. A stranger, not Aziraphale, not his Angel. "Get out."

"What the fuck. You hired me, man."

"Yeah, and now you're fired. GET OUT!" Crowley roared, his voice breaking as he dragged himself off the bed and proceeded to shove and push the man out of the room. His feet were icy on the marble floor as he directed the man toward the door with a thrust of his finger. 

He felt hot all over, his skin blistering and sweating. His belly felt tight with cramps, and his mood was as foul as it got. He may or may not have  _ hissed _ at the lad. He didn't care. He stalked over to the door and yanked on the handle. Gesturing for him to leave with a wave of his arm.

Neither of them was clothed.

Which meant Aziraphale received quite the eyeful, as Crowley's man-candy for the night slipped by, covering his bare ass with his jumper.

It was only after he left that Crowley noticed the Angel standing behind him. Prime as ever, cheeks rosy red and a soft cough of surprise on his lips. 

"Oh fuck mmmeeee..." Crowley moaned, starring at Aziraphale for two seconds before rolling his eyes and stalking away from the door. He left it open, though, because even naked as the day he was born, he had no will to neglect the Angel. Bloody hell, could he not get a break? First, he's lead to be hells fucking whore, now this? 

"Lock the door behind you. I'm taking a shower!" Crowley snarled. 

He barely made it to the bathing room before the cramping took over. Moaning he made for the sink, his arm on the wall the only thing supporting him. Frantically he turned on the faucets, flushing icy water down hot cheeks. 

Aziraphale's smell was already invading the room, slinking under the door frame with the scent of honeysuckle and sweet peas. 

Positively holy, is what it was. 

Fucking delightful, is what it was.

The sound of dishes crashing about in the kitchen told him something of what the Angel was doing. Probably cooking. Blessed bastard always needed to cook, and his preferred method was at Crowley's flat, apparently, because he had a more modern oven. Didn't matter that the Angel could miracle his own. He was probably looking so lovely, bent over a mixing bowl, fingers kneading into a dough, cheeks flushed with excitement.

Crowley was going to die.

"Just deal with it, you bloody idiot." He snapped at the mirror, glaring at his scaly reflection. Scales, fucking hell. 

Dragging his sorry self into the shower, he turned the knobs all the way up to high and coiled himself under the stream. Maybe he'd be able to burn the other man off his skin. Wouldn't that be fantastic?

He hurt, toe to chin, but the worst of it radiated from his groin and lower back. Demon anatomy. It had its good days and bad ones. Today was about as bad as it got.

Unfulfilled temptation quotas lead to this. Horny, pissed of demons with the insufferable need to have sex. If he didn't get his numbers through conventional means, Hells Princes would force it through other ways. Ratcheting your demon population up by turning them into walking Incubi and Succubi was one way to do it.

He'd only been three temptations short.

Why, oh why, was he trying to be one of the good guys again?

There was a clang from the kitchen, followed by a whispered: "Oh Heavens!"

Ahhh, that's why— heaven-sent cherubic angels with blue eyes the color of the sky and round pink cheeks. Lovely long-fingered hands and a soft, pale skin that looked so damn edible, it made Crowley's mouth water.

Crowley was hard again, his cock standing from between his legs. The water spraying down on him a torture of a thousand fingers. Whining, he gave the insatiable thing a glare and willed it away. He was not going to knock one off while the Angel stood in the next room. Especially not when his thoughts were running so wild. He wouldn't corrupt his Angel like that.

He'd just have to deal with the pain until Aziraphale left, and he could force himself to go out and find a different hookup. This time he'd be smart about it. No blonds. 

Turning his head up to the spray, he gurgled the hot water and wished it would cleanse him of all this shite nonsense. Hot, so hot, but nowhere close to the fires of hell. This was nothing. 

He was nothing.

Spitting the water out across the tile, he wrapped his arms around his skinny chest and tried to breathe around the aching twist that was his dark heart. He was just overly emotional. But Satan did he hate this. A no-good, nasty, filthy demon that got fucked silly on the regular just because he couldn't do his job right. He was corrupt to his very soul.

Why, in Satan's name, would an Angel ever want him? Why, in all of hell, was Aziraphale the only thing he'd ever wanted? 

_ Dammit. Don't think about it. Get up and deal with the grave you've dug, you useless dink.  _ Crowley snarled at himself, snatching up one of his expensive shampoo bottles and pouring near half the bottle into his hand. Scrubbing it in until the red strands squeaked under his fingertips, and his eyes burned from more than just unshed tears. Spilling more soap onto the loofa, he took it to his skin and scrapped at its surface until he was raw and red.

The muscles of his stomach rippled and throbbed with pent up desire. Doubling over around the ache, he clutched the tile walls and whined, low and soft. "Satan, and all that's unholy." The tile felt like heaven on his face, still icy and cool as he pressed it into the corner of the shower. If he shed a few real tears, pressed there in his melancholy, nobody was around to see it.

There was no avoiding it. He had a guest to tend to. Shutting the faucets off, he dragged his sorry self out the shower, slipping and almost taking the glass door down with him. It took more effort than it was worth to right himself and forced his sorry hide to the towel rack. Skinny as he was, it wrapped about himself like a skirt. A glance in the mirror showed he was no better looking than before. The only difference now was his eyes were red-rimmed and splotchy from tears.

It was only then that he realized he hadn't bothered to bring clothes with him. He couldn't just command them to his side. His powers were on standby until he dealt with his punishment. That meant another walk of shame.

Opening the door, a cloud of steam plumed outward, announcing his exit with a burst of humidity. His room was on the other side of the flat. Which meant he'd have to walk through the kitchen to get to it—rotten luck.

His hips ached, so he shuffled rather than walked into the open space of his kitchen and living room. Aziraphale stood behind the kitchen island, vigorously whisking away at a bowl. His motions sharp and agitated. He'd made a right mess of the place already. Flour dashed across the countertops, eggs, and containers of various baking paraphernalia littering every available space. There was a glass of wine sitting beside him, already half-finished. The air smelled of chocolate and sugar. 

Aziraphale was angry, a harsh red aura contaminating his usual effervescent blue. Crowley paused, cocking his head and staring at it. "Are you alright, Angel?" The question was out before he could stop himself. Aziraphale jerked his head up, startling and almost dropping the bowl in his arms. 

"I'm fine...." He didn't sound fine, though. He sounded frustrated. "Who was that man- have you been crying?!" Like that, the aura of anger popped. Crowley groaned, of course, he'd notice. 

Eyeing the glass of wine, he took a couple frantic steps forward and drained it with two deep-drawn gulps. Aziraphale looked him up and down, that blush growing as he seemed to realize Crowley was half nude. 

"Don't think about it. Just part of the job." Crowley muttered around the rim of the glass, only letting it go when Aziraphale gently took it from his hand and moved to refill it from the bottle.

"I don't understand. Why...Crowley, why did he look like me?" And there it was again, that glowing volcanic red. Crowley sighed, of course, he'd notice that, of all things. The angel's anxiety drew Crowley forward and around to Aziraphale's side. The wine glass was sitting, forgotten in Aziraphale's hand, so he took it. If ever there was a time for alcohol, it was now. It felt nice, a warm burn in his belly, soothing almost. Too tired to stand on his own, he dropped one hip to lean against the counter. 

"Do I really have to explain it," Crowley asked, glaring up at the ceiling, he couldn't look at Aziraphale for this. Didn't want to see the disgust on his face. 

"Yes, yes, I'd rather you would." 

How could he say that the reason he'd picked up that prostitute was because it felt  _ less _ bad if he could just pretend he wasn't whoring himself out to make Hell's quotas? That the only person he'd ever wanted to be with  _ was  _ Aziraphale? That their stupid pact was what had gotten him here in the first place? Aziraphale was still giving him that look. Expectant. 

"Satan. Fuck. He looks like you cause that's the only thing that makes all this," Gesturing to his nude body, he couldn't help the disgust that came over him. "Even remotely survivable."

"What are you talking about? I really, truly don't understand." Crowley flinched at the touch of a hand over the skin of his heart. Gasped as the connection of skin on skin jolted his overactive libido. 

"Don't touch me." Crowley croaked, backing up, or trying to. Aziraphale had him corned against the countertops. 

"Why?" Now Aziraphale's voice was seeping into a throaty, husky territory, his body shifting in close to press against Crowley. He smelled so good- delicate and sweet. Crowley moaned, leaning forward, bowing his taller frame to bury his face into Aziraphale's plush vest. Pain, pain, Satan he ached, Aziraphale could probably feel it. The hard, jutting swell of him, barely contained by the towel. Warm fingers tangled into his hair, pulling him in close with a whisper of breath.

"What's happening to you?" Aziraphale asked, his voice tender and worried.

"Didn't fill my quota of temptations this month..." Crowley croaked, turning his head up to breathe in Aziraphale's warm scent, where it originated from, in the soft crook of his neck. His hooked nose pressed to the beating pulse just beneath Aziraphale's jaw. Hopelessly, he nuzzled there, unable to help it when his lips took to exploring the pale skin there. Aziraphale gasped, tilting his head to the side to give Crowley further access.

Why wasn't he running away?

"And wh-what happens if you don't fill your quota?" Aziraphale questioned, moaning softly as Crowley bit against the soft skin. Careful, so careful, he was to close to his snake side, fangs and scales sneaking into his human corporation.

"Ever heard of an incubus?" Crowley asked. Of course, he would have. Aziraphale was the smartest man he knew. 

"They force you to have sex?!" That was enough to break Aziraphale free of whatever hold Crowley had on him. Jerking back, he starred at Crowley with wide, worried eyes. "Oh Crowley, that is...that is just-"

"Evil? I'm a demon, love..." Crowley groaned. He felt bereft, his skin chilled and lost without the closeness of Aziraphale. "It's part of the job." Rubbing a hand over his face, he made to leave. He had to go, get this done with. What's more, he would not drag Aziraphale down into the mud with him. "I'm sorry. I have to go." 

Fingers grabbed onto his arms before he even had a chance to walk away, yanking him back until his back slammed against the counter.

"Don't you dare," Aziraphale growled. He was suddenly nothing but eyes and feathers, his wings flashed from the astral plane to mantel around Crowley. Crowley cried out, his skin and soul jumping at the enveloping aura of holiness. It burned, burned so hot his cock jumped to attention, and his hips rolled with need. A worthless, needing creature. 

"Uhnnn." Crowley turned his head up to the heat of it, arching, aching, needing. "Please?" He wasn't above begging, not now when he thought his insides would tear, and his ass ached to be filled.

Familiar, tender hands, stronger than he'd ever expected, took hold of his hips and lifted him onto the countertop. Bowls and spoons clashed. Spilling over as they were shoved aside to make room for his skinny ass. He ignored the wet hot spill off melted chocolate against his back. The coarse grit of flour on his backside as Aziraphale yanked the towel from around his waist. 

His cock was exposed, red and straining, his thin hips bending for more. Please, more.

**** Aziraphale growled, he was like an avenging angel, swooping in to drag Crowley into a kiss. Claiming the demon with hard drags of his lips. Claiming the demon with a hard drag of his lips. Shocked down to his toes, Crowley groaned his approval, his hands coming up to frame both sides of Aziraphale's face, his lips moving. There was no way he was going to deny him, not with the way his body craved the other man, not when he offered himself up on a platter for the taking. Their tongue's tangled together, warm and soft, tasting of wine and bitter chocolate. Crowley dragged him in close, needing more. Aching and desperate.

"Don't you dare go out there and find some...some tramp, when I'm here," Aziraphale ordered, seemingly offended at the mere idea. 

"I won't, I won't!" Crowley gasped into his open mouth. He sounded terrified. Needy and scared out of his fucking mind. They've never done this. Never stepped out of the centuries-long dance they'd played. He didn't care, this is what he needed, what he'd wanted for far too long. "Please, fuck, Aziraphale, help me?" He yanked at the other man's bowtie, tugging it free before delving for the buttons underneath. His hands shook, and he growled in frustration. So many layers, he couldn't focus, not with the way Aziraphale's hips were grinding against his, the fabric of his pants scraping against the sensitive skin of Crowley's balls.

"Darling?" Aziraphale suddenly stopped, his hands coming up to grip both of Crowley's where they clutched his bowtie. Crowley fumbled, gulping in a gasping lungful of air that he didn't technically need. Turning his gaze up, he got an eye full for the kindest, most gentle eyes he'd ever known. Just the right color blue, pupils so wide that they were almost black at the moment. Soft, curling white-blond hair. White feathers that encircled him in a calming grasp. His first love, his only love. 

"Yes?" He felt like a walking tornado, ready to burst and destroy everything in its path, even himself.

"I love you." The smile the twisted this pink lips bloomed like a rose, glorious and everything Crowley ever wanted. Sweet relief. Crowley sobbed, tears spilling down his cheeks. Yanking on Aziraphale's bowtie and dragging the man up for another go. 

"Dammit, I love you, angel!" He moaned against beseeching tongue, panting onto the warm swell of his lips. Aziraphale's thumbs rubbed the tears from his cheeks, and he parted just long enough to kiss them away before returning to Crowley's lips and claiming them once more. They tangled and danced like that until that whining, needy thing inside Crowley couldn't take it anymore, and his moans turned into whimpering pleas and desperate sobs.

"Shhhh, love, let me help." Aziraphale broke from his lips, trailing warm kisses down Crowley's neck. Crowley moaned his appreciation, falling back to sprawl on top the counter, a can of condensed milk rocking before crashing to the floor. Neither of them cared. Crowley had gone past all rational thought, and Aziraphale was too busy tracing his tongue down the line of bony flesh between Crowley's pectoral muscles, his hands dragging down Crowley's hips, nails scrapping over sensitive skin.

Crowley gasped, hips bucking up as he sought out more pressure. Spreading his legs wide in an open invitation, one foot delved into the cutlery drawer, tangling in among the spoons and forks. The other leg was claimed by Aziraphale's hands as he moved them from Crowley's hips. Drawing his fingers along firm muscle until he reached Crowley's knee and hooked the limb up onto his shoulder.

"Oh, don't you look lovely right now?" Aziraphale purred, his eyes eating up Crowley's sprawled body like he was one of the angel's pastries. He wasn't wearing any clothes now, no doubt having miracled them away. His cock stood out stiff and long, so unbelievably gorgeous that it had Crowley's mouth drooling.

"If you don't fuck me with that, I swear I'm going to discorporate here and now," Crowley ordered, reaching between his legs to take hold of it and give it an experimental squeeze. Aziraphale moaned, head falling back and his hips rolling forward to greet Crowley. He was a thing of beauty, wings rippling in surprise, chest blushed such a pretty red, nipples standing out perked and eager. He looked just as beautiful without clothes as Crowley thought he would. Delicate cream-colored skin, warm muscles covered by only the softest bit of roundness. He was magnificent.

Crowley needed him now.

Using Aziraphale's shoulder for leverage, he shimmied his ass forward until it hung over the edge of the counter, the silverware clinking as he spread his legs wide. Aziraphale got the hint, chuckling something about impatient demons. 

"Wait, love, let me just-" Aziraphale took on a soothing tone snd Crowley shouted in relief as one soft palm wrapped around his cock, working him from root to tip in a slow, eager drag that had precum streaming from his head and spilling over Aziraphale's fist. His own hand gave up its attempts at working Aziraphale off. He wanted too, but he couldn't focus, not with his demon form shrieking for more and his body rippling in ecstasy.

Aziraphale crooned a faint, comforting sound, his other hand gently delving between Crowley's ass cheeks. Crowley flinched, hips jerking towards those fingers as they eagerly sought out the puckered source of his pain.

"Yes, there, please, Angel, please." Crowley choked on his own spit as two fingers pressed into his entrance and thrust inside with a slow, drawn-out twist. "Don' need much-" He cut off his own train of thought, it probably wasn't a good idea to mention that the last guy had prepped him.

"Let me decide what you need love." Aziraphale murmured, working into Crowley with practiced ease. He'd done this before, of course, he had, little heathen. Crowley whimpered, rocking into each slow thrust of those fingers, his toes curling as he was finally full of something. The hot burn of it was welcome, but when Aziraphale miracled some lube, it was like he'd repented and gone to heaven. He keened, hands scrambling in the mess of flour and chocolate as he tried to get enough leverage to rock against those dexterous digits.

"There you go, open up for me." Aziraphale growled out his approval, sounding primal, "look at you Crowley, so pretty, calling for me. Do you want me inside you?"

Best idea ever, Crowley nodded, beyond words. His head was hanging off the counter, so the movement was more just a bob of his chin, a roll of his Adam's-apple. He just wanted to be full, full to the brim, and seeping with his Angel's holy seed until he was screaming, and his world imploded. That would be a dramatic, brilliant end. He'd be renowned in Hell for eternity.

When Aziraphale's tip breached him, it was so much bigger than he'd anticipated, a thick, bulbous intrusion pressing into that ring of muscle with unending persistence. It felt so good, working into his tight muscles, forcing him open. Aziraphale groaned, muttering sweet nothings under his breath, choking as he slowly introduced himself into Crowley's body. Crowley sobbed in ecstasy, tears streaming down his cheeks, hips rolling, and desperate to get him deeper.

Aziraphale's hands were everywhere, leaving doughy handprints up his ribs and down his spine. Chocolate smears across the inside of his legs and around his cock where he grasped it, working Crowley with sharp twists of his palm. With a shout, Aziraphale seated himself deep into Crowley, his balls slapping Crowley's ass cheeks, his hips grinding down into the tight hole.

Crowley yelled in relief, he was full to the brim, his ass throbbing around the solid intrusion that was Aziraphale's cock. His breath coming out in moaning whimpers. He could barely move, he was so high. 

"You're getting snakey, my dear." Aziraphale teased, running fingers over the scales that were rapidly overrunning Crowley's naturally tan skin. He dug his nails into the seam of them, and the painful pleasure of it had Crowley's cock jerking in the hollow of Aziraphale's palm. 

Slowly the Angel withdrew from inside his ass, dragging out almost to the tip before slamming home with a sharp thrust, his rhythm picking up into deep, unyielding push that had them both moaning and gasping for more. He set a relentless pace, pistoning into Crowley, with fast thrusts and slow, taunting withdrawals. A shift and a clatter of a bowl hitting the ground has Crowley seeing stars as Aziraphale found his prostate. 

"There! There, there there!" Crowley wailed, arching into it, shouting out as Aziraphale took to pounding that little bud of nerves over and over. Reaching for Aziraphale, he didn't know what he wanted, but the Angel seemed to understand, bending to press a kiss to his inner palm.

"Does that feel good, love?" He asked against the bony flesh, blue eyes intense as they looked into Crowley's gold ones, each word accented with a thrust that had Crowley's fingers spasming, black nails dragging against the plump swell of his cheek. 

"Yes, Angel- Satan...so good!" Crowley's mouth fell open into a shocked 'oh' as those pert lips wrapped around his index finger, sucking off the chocolate staining his skin, lapping it up with slow drags of his moist, pink tongue. He realized the digit with a cold 'pop' of sound, lips curling in a pleased, possessive smile.

"You feel so good around me, darling, so tight." Aziraphale hummed, Crowley flushed, he wasn't used to taking compliments. 

One hand still working at Crowley's erection, Aziraphale dragged the other up to tangled in Crowley's hair, yanking his heavy head up by the strands of it and twisting their tongues together in a passionate, all-encompassing kiss. It felt like being punished, like being forgiven.

Crowley came like that, his eyes rolling back in his head and his body stiffening beneath Aziraphale's. His leg, where it hung over Aziraphale's shoulder stiffened, toes pointing into taught angles of pleasure as his balls tightened and spilled their seed between the two of them. Crowley shouted. Aziraphale moaned, whispering praises and prayers as Crowley's muscles milked desperately at his shaft's hard swell.

With one final thrust and a soft grunt of surprise, Aziraphale came as well, spilling himself deep into the Crowley and pumping his hips to work it in deep.

That in itself was like heavenly torture, pure, divine essence coating him, staining his dark self with holiness. Fire! Crowley screamed against Aziraphale's lips, curling himself in tight around the other man's body. It hurt, it hurt so bad it felt  _ good _ , the pleasure of hot, spilled seed rolling in waves up his spine. He came again, a groaning, desperate spill of seed hot against his skin where it mixed with the chocolate. 

Aziraphale pulled away, looking him over with open, worried concern. "Are you alright, love?" 

Was he alright? He felt like scrambled eggs. Wisked into pieces. He was heavy and swollen with seed. His legs were too weak to stay where they should, instead sliding free to hang open, and spread-eagled. And the pleasure...

"Satan...that was fantastic..." 

Aziraphale chuckled, worries fleeing to be left with a cheshire cat grin. "You filthy beast, look at you." He seemed pleased with the way he'd left Crowley thoroughly debauched, nothing but liquid sex. That's what he was.

The Angel eased out of him with a soft squelch, and Crowley whined, aching and empty. Aziraphale wasn't done with him yet.

Humming to himself, Aziraphale bent to press a kiss to Crowley's nipple, chasing the pert flesh with his tongue. Moving downward, Crowley watched with hooded eyes as that wicked, wicked tongue curled it's way through the mess of chocolate and seed on his belly, lapping it up with moaning, soft sounds of approval and gasps of pain. Did it feel as good to him as it had for Crowley? Judging by the sultry, satisfied look to his eyes, Crowley would say yes. With one more suck to Crowley's navel, he let off, pressing a warm kiss to it before straightening. At the apex of his hips, his cock stood out again, hard and pleading for more.

"Flip over love. I want to hear you scream my name."

"Fuck me." Crowley panted, dismayed. Who was this hellion that had inhabited Aziraphale's body? 

"Oh, I plan too." Aziraphale purred, his eyes twinkling with mischief, his teeth shining bright white. Crowley loved the sound of that and grinned back before a whiff of something smokey touched his nose.

"I smell something burning?" Crowley raised up onto his elbows, sniffing the air and turning toward the stove.

"Ah! My croissants!" Aziraphale squeaked, all manner of sexiness gone in an instant as he ran, bare-assed to the stove.

**Author's Note:**

> There it is! Me completely ignoring my other WIP to give you this glorious little smutty thing. I feel the deep desire to draw these two completely covered in chocolate and flour. Also, I almost feel like this could be a series. 'The Temptations of Crowley' or something like that. Not sure how much smut people actually want to read. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Comments and kudos are much loved!


End file.
